


Don't You Hear Me Calling You?

by onekisstotakewithme



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Airports, Chance Meetings, Episode: s11e03 Foreign Affairs, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 17:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19338853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekisstotakewithme/pseuds/onekisstotakewithme
Summary: "Can I buy you another drink?” Donna asks. “Drown your sorrows?”





	Don't You Hear Me Calling You?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blue_raven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_raven/gifts), [subjectiveobjection](https://archiveofourown.org/users/subjectiveobjection/gifts).



> Thanks to Deepa for the beta read!

It's barely mid-afternoon, but the bar in Tokyo is packed with off-duty soldiers and doctors, all of whom seem intent on flirting with Donna (despite the fact that she's in uniform and in the middle of a business lunch), as well as one woman with curly brown hair who sits at the end of the bar nursing a cognac, a melancholy Odysseus looking to the siren of alcohol for answers.

As luck would have it, Donna’s meeting ends early, leaving her with a few minutes before she’s due back at the hospital. She walks over to the bar, sliding onto the stool next to the woman. "Do you mind company?"

"Mmm?" The woman looks up from her drink. “Sorry?”

"Is it alright if I sit here?" Donna asks. "Only you looked so upset, I wanted to..." The words don't come and eventually she shrugs, and nods to the bartender. "Another drink for her, and I'll have whatever she's having.”

The bartender nods, and the woman clears her throat. "I'm not really upset."

“Pull the other one, it’s longer,” Donna says flippantly, and the woman’s brow furrows in confusion.

But she’s distracted by the drinks. “Ah,  _ merci _ .” 

"Of course you’re not upset," Donna says, picking up the thread of the conversation again, though she’s trying to place the woman's accent. French, perhaps? "You're just having a passionate love affair with cognac?"

"Ah, yes. It's ah... very good."

"Really?" Donna asks. "Usually the cognac they serve here is horse piss."

The woman laughs, a sparkling little laugh- so at odds with her melancholy spirit. "Well, it is not... perfect, exactly, but not... terrible. It is a memory, really.”

"It's on me," Donna says to the bartender, sliding money across the bar. He eyes her suspiciously but takes it, and she turns back to the woman, eyeing the Red Cross uniform. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"A man." The woman toasts Donna. “Little surprise, I’d imagine.”

"They generally are," Donna agrees. "These uniforms have seen a lot of heartbreak."

"You- you are Red Cross too?" the woman asks, as if noticing Donna for the first time. 

"In the flesh," Donna says with a nod. "I'm a liaison at Tokyo General. You?"

"I ah- I offer aid to a French unit stationed in Korea. But I needed... a rest."

"Recovering from an unhappy love affair?"

"There was this man... in Korea. A doctor."

“One with a taste for cognac, I’d imagine,” Donna says, trying not to think of Charles.

“ _ Oui. _ ” The woman smiles apologetically. "But there is always a man, no?"

"What was it about him?" Donna asks. "If you don't mind telling me. But he must have been a real heel if he let you walk away."

"Oh no, not at all. He was an enchanting man, but he was too… how do I say this? He did not allow himself to be happy," the woman says. "A tragic figure."

"And you got caught in the crossfire," Donna says, nodding. "Bastard."

The woman laughs. "It was not so bad. To find love in such a place is a blessing, yes? Only to find it and lose it..."

Charles is stubbornly present in Donna’s mind still, and she shakes her head, as if it'll dispel the memories. "It must have been very difficult."

Her companion merely shakes her head. "I mostly feel sorry for him."

"I think that's the idea of a tragic figure," Donna says dryly. “Feeling sorry for them, that is. And being grateful that you’re not them.”

"He's a good man,  _ oui? _ But…” She gestures, as if looking for the words. “Stifled by the man he has to be. And I cannot be angry for him, but only very sad."

"Can I buy you another drink?” Donna asks. “Drown your sorrows?”

"I am French.” She shrugs. “If you believe my countrymen, it is good to drown our sorrows in good drinks. Though this  _ is  _ horse piss, and I cannot stop being sad, because  _ pauvre _ Charles... he is still out there."

Donna stops in her tracks. 

_ Charles. _

"However..." the woman trails off, swirling her drink, oblivious to the bombshell she's just dropped, "I am not so sure it was really me he wanted, you know?"

“How- I mean, how do you know that?” Donna asks, trying to hide her interest.

“I have seen men in love,” she says simply. “And I could see that he loved someone… though perhaps it was only himself.”

Donna laughs. “I can imagine.”

“It was not so unhappy to begin with,” the woman muses, “a happy memory from a place of such sorrow.”

Donna swallows hard, a plan half-formed in her mind. She puts down a few more bills. "Here.  _ Titanic _ your sorrows. On me.”

The woman frowns as Donna stands up. "But surely you are not leaving? I am afraid I have been very rude, simply talking your ear off.”

“I was glad to help,” Donna says. “But I do have to get back to work.”

“But please, I cannot accept-”

“Please.” Donna squeezes her hand, impulsively. “And thank you.”

She’s gone without another glance backwards, though the woman calls, “But why do you thank  _ me _ ?”

Donna hurries to where her jeep is parked, and smiles at her Bloom, her driver. “How would you fancy a trip to Korea, Bloom?”

“All due respect, ma’am, I wouldn’t.” He narrows his eyes at her. “Are you authorized to go over there, where all the fighting is?”

“Let’s save us both some time and trouble, and assume that  _ yes _ I am,” she tells him, climbing in. “Let’s go.”

“You're the boss, boss,” he says, starting the engine.

It's the most utterly foolish fucking notion she's ever had, racing into a war zone to find a man who may or may not even still harbor feelings for her, but she can't stop now.

“Have you ever been in love?” she asks Bloom once they’re on the road.

“Sure, with Rita Hayworth.”

“Not a movie star,” she says, nudging his shoulder. “A person. There’s no Mrs. Bloom?”

“Besides my mom? Nope.”

“Well let me tell you…” she says, shaking her head. “It’s a goddamned son of a bitch of a feeling.”

“So’s VD, ma’am, so forgive me if I’ll take my chances.”

Donna laughs, but stops pestering him. 

As Bloom takes charge, weaving in and out of the afternoon traffic, Donna’s thoughts turn to Charles.

It was three days together, but it all feels so vivid, as if it was just yesterday.

She closes her eyes, his voice echoing in her mind, the smile on his face while he’d told her of an impromptu swim in the Charles River, a story she’s sure nobody else knows. And a smile like the  _ Wizard of Oz _ , turning the whole camp from shades of drab to dazzling technicolor.

She’s thrown from her daydreams when the Jeep squeals to a halt in front of the base. “We’re here.”

“Good.” She hands him an obscenely large tip as she climbs out. “And don’t worry, I’ll turn myself in when I get back.”

“If you’re sure... Ma’am?”

She turns. “Yes?”

“I don’t know who he is, but I hope he’s good for you,” Bloom says, and she waves him off, running into the airport.

The PA is squawking overhead, and she slips off her heels and picks them up, because the next shuttle leaves in five minutes and she’ll need to run and catch it, lest she stop and actually think about what she’s doing, and she starts running.

Until she hears her name, and skids to a stop, nearly sliding in her stockinged feet as she turns towards the person calling her, because it can’t be-

And it's him.

Head and shoulders above everyone else in his uniform, brilliant blue eyes fixed on her as he hurries through the crowd.

"Chuck?" she asks, disbelieving, as he strides towards her.

He's grinning, and it leaves her breathless, how much sense it all makes. And then she's dropping her shoes on the ground and running, and then she's in his arms again. “Donna.”

She pulls away. "How- How are you here?"

"A three-day pass, there was a lull in casualties, and I wanted to... well. What are  _ you _ doing here?" Charles asks, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. 

"I was- I was coming to find you. Is that okay?"

His smile returns. "Indeed."

"Good."

"Though I suppose it’s amusing, because I was here, in Tokyo… looking for  _ you _ . You see, I had something of a realization, after we parted," Charles starts formally.

"I know,"

"How-"

"I'll tell you all about it later." She grins. “I promise.”

"Okay." And then he clears his throat. "Would it be too forward of me to ask if I can kiss you?"

"No."

"Good," he says, echoing her, and then leans down and kisses her.

And Donna sends a silent apology and at the same time a heartfelt prayer of gratitude to a strange woman in a Tokyo bar.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Title is a lyric from the Queen song " '39 "


End file.
